Page 168 of His Stolen Omega

Plus getting to have sex whenever and wherever they wanted without worry about being walked in on was also a serious perk.

“I heard his alpha bought him this place,” an omega female whispered to her friends while they stood in front of one of Elm’s favorite pieces.

The statue was another iteration of the Rabbit God, this one bent at the waist, face covered by his hands, weeping. He’d done a whole series on them, capturing his emotional journey during the change and shoving it into his art as a means to purge himself from the past. It’d helped. Keeping things in never did.

“Have you seen him? He’s totally hot,” another girl said. “And he’s a dominant omega.”

“Rumor is his alpha is a mob boss.”

“Better be careful. I also heard he was the jealous type.”

“Yeah, that’s not someone you want to piss off.”

Elm snorted and kept walking. When he turned the corner, he spotted Kian and Sky in the far section, seemingly discussing one of the paintings. Since Levi liked his drawings, Elm had decided to add a few other types of medium to the gallery showing, and was pleasantly surprised to see how well his paintings were doing.

Out of the six he’d hung, four had already sold, much to Levi’s vexation.

“Tell your brother that one isn’t for sale.” As if summoned by Elm’s mind, the alpha stepped up from behind him, stopping at his side. He was glaring across the room at Kian and Sky.

“Relax,” Elm chuckled. “They’re just looking.”

“They are not. Sky is clearly telling him to buy it.”

“I don’t need their support. Sky knows that.”

“He doesn’t want it out of charity,” Levi corrected. “He wants it because it’s good. Which is also why I want it. Go. Tell them they can’t have it.”

“Okay, I’ll tell them to pick something else.”

“No.”

Elm grinned and turned to face his alpha. “This isn’t a museum, Leviathan. Everything here is for sale. You can’t get upset every time someone buys something.”

Levi was dressed in a black suit, the buttons open almost to the center of his chest, showing off a swath of bare skin that brought images of this morning when he’d fucked him against the bathroom sink moving to the forefront of Elm’s brain.

“I told you just to display stuff.” The alpha stepped closer, a frown marring his brow, fingers reaching out to redo the three buttons of Elm’s shirt, as though he was the one flashing the guests. “I’m happy that you’re happy, and that you’ve made a name for yourself in the art world, but—”

“Enough.” Elm laughed. “We don’t have space for all of this at home.”

“We do,” he disagreed. “But if you really think that, I can simply buy another. One specifically for your art.”

“That’s called a gallery, Levi, and that’s what this is.”

He adjusted Elm’s shirt collar, brushing against the strip of leather bound around his throat in the process. “You’re giving away pieces of yourself. I don’t like it.”

Elm didn’t wear the collar Levi had given him after the bite often. Mostly for special events, and whenever they planned on spending a lengthy period of time out in public. When the alpha’s fingers lingered there, he realized fixing his shirt was just an excuse to touch it and reassure himself the collar was secure.

Sure enough, Levi tested the buckle at the back, then hummed in satisfaction and finally dropped his arms.

“You already have all of me, alpha,” Elm replied quietly. “This is just stuff.”

“Stuff you made. Stuff that came out of your soul.”

Despite his complaining, Levi had been his strongest supporter in all of this. He’d even been the one to suggest he seriously consider a career in the arts in the first place. Since Elm no longer lived on Glyph, his partnership with Sky had dwindled down to almost nothing. It’d been too difficult for Elm to step back into that role after over half a year away, and shipping things between planets was frustrating.

He’d always dreamed of something of his own, and the Leviathan could easily make that a reality, so he’d shamelessly taken him up on the offer, with the understanding that the alpha didn’t interfere.

Elm had needed to know his work held its own merit, without the Leviathan’s influence forcing sales. He’d started small, just a piece or two in local showings and auctions, and had built a name for himself.